


Femslash February 2019

by sparklight



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Carmilla - J. Sheridan Le Fanu, Moonlight Garden (Webcomic), She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Femslash February 2019, Flower Maiden Dynamics, Fluff, Knifeplay, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-21 05:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17636510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: We'll see how many days I manage, and how tightly I keep to the prompt list I do have. We'll see what develops, and how many fandoms get added, but it'll probably be mostly vaguely canon divergent AUs, some canon compliant stuff, and, ah... probably more than a couple flower maiden AUs.





	1. Opposites - Haruka/Usagi

"Serenity, come with me." Her mother smiled from the top of the terrace stairs, a beckoning hand calling her forward, and Serenity hopped up - almost fell forward when her skirts caught, but Jupiter and Venus caught her with similar but different amused smiles. Smiling sheepishly, she waved the four of them goodbye and left them in the garden, rushing up the stairs and linking arms with her mother.

"Where are we going?"

For a second, her mother... hesitated, her look pensive and distant, before she shook her head, silver hair swaying in its tails, and the look turning into a tilted smile. It was half of a secret, the rest inviting her to knowledge if she was just patient for a little longer. Not that she had ever been that great at _patience_ , but she drew her shoulders up and simply walked the shining corridors with her mother, until they came to a door like any other - she was pretty sure it led into a parlor, not one of her favourites, but really cute and airy.

"I think it's time you meet some particular people. You shouldn't have occasion to meet them often, but knowing they are there and what service they render might be important, one day."

The door opened under her mother's touch, a bare brush of her fingers, and swung open slowly under its own heavy weight. The Earth was visible as a perfect, shrouded half-circle in the upper left of the row of windows that took up one wall of the parlor, but the stunning blue-green orb, framed by light drapery at the windows, that'd first drawn her eyes was forgotten when the three people sitting on the couches in the room stood up. They wore suits much like her dear friends did, armour despite how light it was, the skirts short and decorative around their thighs. The light framed them, seemed to catch in their hair and skin and make them glow, and Serenity glanced to her mother, confused. There were other guardians than hers? The question was silent, though, and her mother tipped her head in equally silent answer, drawing her forwards into the middle of the room. Held her other arm out to the three by the couches, and the gesture alone drew the darkest of them forward.

"Guardian of Time, Sailor Pluto," Queen Serenity said, a small, private and strangely sad smile on her face as she took one of Pluto's hands and transferred it to one of Serenity's, Pluto kneeling as she gently squeezed the hand she was now holding, "she guards our home from the depths of space, but also has a very special charge. I wouldn't pull her away from it normally, but... this seemed important."

"Princess." Pluto's voice was soft, a dark timbre in the bright room, and Serenity found goosebumps slithering up her arm, a weight in her chest. Not because the beautiful woman was _scary_ , because she certainly wasn't, but when she stood up, her bright garnet eyes meeting her own, there was... She almost wanted to cry, right then, because the distant weight in them was like the shadow of ages she sometimes caught in her mother's gaze, but more so. Besides that, however, she seemed... uncertain. Her eyes were on Serenity, yes, but her weight seemed poised to have her leave, not because she might necessarily _want to_ , but it seemed to Serenity she wasn't comfortable, felt like she shouldn't be here.

"Pluto. Thank you for coming!" So she smiled and took Pluto's hand in both of hers, squeezing it. "I'm glad I could meet you."

And, she realized as she said that, she _was_. She might not know her at all, but there was some slight tension in the hand she grasped that eased up as she squeezed it, and she settled on both of her feet, heels clicking softly against the marble floor, at her smile, her words. It just made her smile wider, though it softened too. She didn't understand, but rather wished she could help. Pluto curtsied to her, a small, brief flash of a smile on her face and yet the look in her red eyes was unreadable, but soft, before she glanced to her mother.

"My Queen. I should leave."

Queen Serenity's chest shuddered with her breath, a bare moment of unsteady strain as she nodded. Leaned in and brushed a kiss to Pluto's cheek, and Serenity watched the exchange with wide eyes.

"Yes, of course. I apologize for drawing you away, but _thank you_ for taking the time." And she smiled then, amusement and near _teasing_ in her eyes at the word _time_ , and Pluto chuckled softly. Shook her head and bowed to her mother, then, right before she left, reached out... let her hand drop before it brushed Serenity's cheek, and with a last look to her mother, she was out of the room.

The door closing behind them, the second guardian stepped forth even before her mother had gestured her forward, and Serenity watched with an embarrassing amount of guilty jealousy. She moved much like Mars did, easy elegance and grace in every movement, and while she _often_ had the same sort of unthinking grace herself, it sometimes seemed so much trickier, more _conscious_ than Mars ever were, than this woman seemed to be.

"Soldier of the Sea, Sailor Neptune She too guards the outer edges of the solar system against any thread from the outside." Her mother took Neptune's outstretched hand, squeezing it, then let go to let her take Serenity's hand herself, kneeling over it with the hand pressed to her forehead before she stood up, a small smile on her face.

"Princess. I am pleased to be able to meet you." Her hair almost seemed to move subtly, despite that there was no open windows or doors for a breeze to come through, and there was a light in her eyes that seemed to turn the blue into backlit water. Serenity caught herself staring, and ducked her head, embarrassed but, of course, not for long.

"I know you're probably busy, but hopefully it won't be the only time we do," Serenity said, the smile easy and becoming even more so when Neptune smiled in turn - there was a distance there that she couldn't figure out, a sort of fond _longing_ , but it didn't seem judging, not by the way her hand was squeezed before Neptune dropped it, giving her own curtsy.

"If we're lucky, who knows?" She stepped aside, her hand briefly brushing the mirror that hung at her hip, but she didn't _leave_ , standing by the door and clearly waiting for the third member of the little group. She might have glanced to Neptune some more, caught by the slim elegance that seemed to radiate from her, but the third came forward and when she looked up to meet her gaze, something in the young woman's face caught her. Much like the other two, she seemed distant, holding herself still and straight, but there was a weight to her gaze.

"Soldier of the Heavens, Sailor Uranus. Her service, like Pluto and Neptune's, is invaluable to the Silver Crystal's safety." Her mother's arm swept forward, but in comparison to the other two, she didn't take Uranus' hand. She brushed a hand against a slim, toned arm, but that was it, and Uranus nodded to her mother and then turned to Serenity with a certain alacrity in her movements. Took her hand surely, and then, she bowed, sweeping, efficient elegance in the movements, and with the sword at her hip, she could just as well have been wearing a suit and armour instead of her skirted uniform; it would have been just as fitting.

"Princess." Uranus knelt then, and kissed the back of her hand in the same movement, and all Serenity could think of was _she moves like the princes on Earth_. Not that she was supposed to know _that_ , and maybe it was that they moved like her, but either way her heart was suddenly beating quick and heavy in her chest. Serenity curled her hand a little more around the one holding hers without thinking, and as if in answer, long fingers enclosed more tightly around the back of her hand, a strong thumb pressing against her palm. It was like a brand. "I've been waiting to meet you."

Uranus looked up, and while the smile was teasing, nearly inappropriate, maybe, and it stirred a secret heat in her chest, it was sincere and Serenity hoped her mother hadn't noticed. Laughing, she squeezed the hand holding hers and surely the pink heat in her chest would stay there (she hoped it was). Secret, like the look she'd just gotten.

"I hope I lived up to your expectations!" She wondered how she could, with the beautiful Neptune at the door behind them, but the thought was fleeting, a delicate bird gone on a wind that smelled green and fresh, so much like the wind did on Earth, and the moment of open warmth in Uranus' expression made her hope she had.

"Of course, Your Highness. How could you not?" Uranus was as serious as anything as she stood up, bowing again over her hand, and Serenity could swear her shoulders were wider in that moment, her hair a little more wind-swept despite there _being no wind_ in the room, the windows closed. "I'm merely happy to get the chance to confirm it _in person_."

Their gazes met, and while they each let go to let their hands drop in the same movement, it seemed the grip lingered, like time had slowed down. Serenity wasn't sure _why_ , but the soft curves and sharp lines of Uranus' features drew her in, and the light in her eyes, not _as_ distant any more, made her want to lean in, warm it up further. Uranus' weight shifted, and perhaps she'd intended to lean in down towards her as well, but she turned it into a half-pivot away as their hands each met a thigh, their grip well and truly lost.

"Well, I'm, glad. Thank you so much for taking the time," Serenity said, and that wasn't what she _wanted_ to say - she'd wanted to say something like she'd said to Neptune, about hoping they could see each other again, but these Guardians had their tasks, surely, and they were _Guardians_ besides. The fluttering warmth of her chest didn't belong, just as much as her constant desire to go down to Earth shouldn't exist. Serenity swallowed the words and smiled, turning around and curtsying to both of the Sailor Guardians by the door. 

They left, then, and the room seemed... emptier. Serenity frowned, staring at the door, but even the twisting, stunned giddiness in her chest couldn't distract her from a thought that bubbled up. One, two, three... plus her own four friends...

"Mama, what about Saturn?" Serenity asked, glanced up to her mother, and swallowed at the look on her face, even if the measured look wasn't angry and didn't even seem to really be levied _at her_.

"Saturn sleeps, and should be left sleeping, darling. Come, let us go back to the garden."

They did so, and if Serenity was disappointed to not pass Uranus and Neptune on their way to leave, well... no one needed to know.


	2. Pink - Hyewon/Dohwa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slightly alternate take on/variated elaboration on Dohwa's first bloom with Hyewon's assistance.

Dohwa trembles under her hand, making it seem like the buds on the branches spreading down from her neck, over her shoulder, towards her breasts, are shuddering in a faint wind. Her hips cant upwards, the begging demand as wordlessly expressed by her body as it is falling from her lips in gasps for _more, now_. Another little branch of peach buds stretch out over Dohwa's skin, and as if in concert, her hair turns just a shade lighter. It's less rich brown and more the colour of cherry wood, now, spread out on the thin yo she'd found stashed away in the small, unused room. 

What had once been an unobtrusive hint of pleasing peach flowers is now a riot of blooming teasing her nose and the back of her mouth with their scent, like standing under one of the flowering peach trees in the garden. It makes her mouth water.

"U-unnie---" Dohwa gasps, shoves not one, but two, knuckles into her mouth, and bites down on them, twisting against Hyewon's hesitant hands sliding over her body. She's never been on this end, before. It's always been _her_ on the yo, gasping wetly, trembling in desperation. She'd always felt foolish, afterwards. Sure that she looked pathetic, weak. All she can see now, though, as a fine lattice of dark branches topped with not-yet-blooming pink blossoms spread over pale skin, is passion.

Maybe they are truly pathetic. Maybe they are nothing but mindless wantons once a month, offering themselves up for the warm hand and mouth of any nearby woman who might be able to pay, but there's a stark beauty in it, too. A life, trembling on the cusp of a need to be so alive, so full of pleasure and pain, it can't think.

" _Mistress_!"

Hyewon shudders as Dohwa cries, her breath stuck in her throat, hot and thick. Her insides are throbbing in time with the echo of Dohwa's voice, and she has to take a breath to control herself. She can't lose herself in this, can't actually let the reciprocal wave of strengthening pleasure, like every second touching Dohwa is fine-tuning her nerves, swallow her. She needs to be in control.

"Shh, Dohwa. I _am_ helping."

She squeezes Dohwa's breasts, soft in her hands and spilling over, her hands tingling with the sensation, and Dohwa shudders like she has struck her, her toes curling and throat arching. She leans in to kiss that arch as Dohwa presses her hot, slick core against her hand with twitching little jerks of her hips.

Hyewon spots a stark line of spidery black in the corner of her eyes, and turns her head. Maps out the buds of pink over Dohwa's skin, down towards her nipple, and as Dohwa squeezes around her fingers, arching up against her in a single, long thrust and she bites down on the nipple and sucks in time with it, Dohwa's hair turns pink, and the peach blossoms spread over her torso blooms.


	3. Lost - Usagi/Haruka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more Sailor Moon, same AU as in Opposites. Only Usagi really this time, with Haruka more suggested than not. Prompt is "lost".

There was a garden, flowering under a sky that was incongruously blue when she could see not the Moon in the sky, but _Earth_ , but that made it obvious that this was just a dream, and with a flowing dress spilling all over on the grass around her, Usagi thought of fairy tale princesses. There was a castle shining white and pearl behind her, spires against the blue sky, and there was a wall around the garden. The suited figure that came out of the shadows at the base of that wall was dressed just like she'd imagine a fairy tale prince would be, in striking navy blue and silver, details in surprisingly jaunty yellow. She couldn't quite see his face, but the blond hair was bright against the blue sky, and stirred in a breeze that touched nothing else.

There was nothing but a black, star-studded sky above her, her fine, beautiful dress still and soft against the ground around her, the castle with its garden and the city beyond it far behind her. There wasn't even Earth, but she knew it was somewhere in the dark sky behind her. Why she was looking up at the stars and not the Earth, she didn't know, but there was an ache in her chest, and she clutched her hands to her chest until her fingers ached around the precious gift she was holding.

There was another castle, spreading out underneath her as she stood pressed against the thin balustrade of a balcony. There was a slim, strong arm around her waist, and the other arm raised past her, pointing out the direction where Earth and the Moon was, even if she couldn't see it from here. The arm was surprisingly toned, and there was a spider-thread thin silvery bracelet around the wrist, winking in the light from the room behind them. She couldn't hear anything, but the chest pressed against hers was shuddering with a laugh she wished she _could_ hear, and the sweeping folds of a navy dress was heavy against her own lace-light one.

There was a ballroom, fantastic dresses and glittering lights, and by now Usagi was quite jealous as she (not her, the princess in her dream) was offered a strong, gloved hand and swept out on the floor among other dancing couples (and she could swear she saw Ami-chan and Rei-chan in the crowd..?). Jealous because she would absolutely _love_ to be able to dance like this, with someone as handsome as she imagined the blond prince who she was dancing with to be. Sometimes, though, the long, sweeping cape made it look as if her partner was wearing a dress, instead, and the suggested sharp features softened a little - the hair never changed, though, and Usagi was nearly childishly glad for that, because she thought it suited her dream companion very well.

There was no kiss, but lips brushed against the back of her hand, the pearl bracelet around her wrist glinting in the crystal light of the ballroom, and she looked up to fireworks lighting the dark sky, an arm around her shoulders.

And then she woke up.

Blinking into the darkness of her room, Usagi sat up slowly. Sniffed, and then realized she was crying despite there being no reason to be doing so, but as she carefully pulled her knees to herself, slowly so she wouldn't disturb Luna at the end of the bed, she felt like she'd lost something.


	4. Café - Carmilla/Laura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's ficlet (prompt: Café) is for Carmilla this time! An in-between moment in the novella at the point after Carmilla has escalated to feeding from Laura. I might be taking some light liberties with what the sort of establishment Laura thinks of would actually be called at this point in time, but shh.

It's warm and sunny enough that afternoon that the chocolate is served on a terrace at the back of the schloss instead of in the parlour, and with the delicately wrought-iron furniture out there, the sun warming both skin and the girls' lassitude, Laura would say she feels like this is surely how it'd be to sit outside one of the cafés in Vienna. The pillows propping her up are soft, the smell of chocolate teasing her nose is rich, and dear Carmilla would fit right in in a place like Vienna. 

She'd normally feel dismay at the notion of being in such a place without being dressed as current fashion demands (they are isolated, yes, but news always arrive and both she and Madame and Mademoiselle have exclaimed over the latest changes in fashion, shortly before they received the news of what happened to poor Bertha and before Carmilla arrived), but at the moment, she feels far too darkly exhausted for that. It creates a twinge of pouting displeasure, but if they ever got the chance to do such a thing, she _could_ always ask papa for a new dress beforehand, couldn't she? She purses her lips at the thought. Glances sideways to where Carmilla is draped in her chair quite like a cat in the sun, though she's squinting at the same, not looking _quite_ as relaxed as a cat would. Maybe it would be far more marvelous to be able to go to Vienna alone, with Carmilla, and shop for a dressmaker to make them new dresses and wander the streets after...

Laura sighs, which finally stirs Carmilla's attention. Her dark eyes swing to her with precise attention, the movement seemingly heavy with the same indolence that has filled Laura up since a week hence.

"What is it, darling?" Carmilla picks up her cup of chocolate with both hands, her fingers small and delicate around the ceramic, and Laura is struck by the ridiculous thought that those fingers should be around _her hand_. Not that this doesn't happen often, as often as Carmilla can make it so in a day, honestly, but never before has she... searched such things _out_. "You sigh with such longing, one could think I'm not sitting right next to you."

Her heart flutters at Carmilla's smile, and she's forced to look away. The sun makes _her_ squint, now, but Laura remains still in her chosen direction, reluctantly fitting her hands around her own chocolate. Hesitates, but the thought fills her up like the dreams she has at night that she doesn't quite remember, like the slowly rising thoughts of darkness, _death_ looming.

"I was just... wishing, we could be sitting at a café in Vienna, in the latest fashion. The sun on the terrace, and taking our chocolate out here, made me think so. Silly, isn't it? Gratz would be far closer!" She laughs softly, but trails off, flicks a glance back to Carmilla as she's so _quiet_ , and finds herself speared by the dark gaze. Her mouth is dry.

"That sounds like a delightful event. Like a celebration!" Carmilla smiles, even claps her hands after putting her cup back onto the table; for a brief, animated movement she's flush and alive in a way Laura seems unable to be since these thoughts came, but all sickness passes, doesn't it? She can soon be as before, even if the sickness will have changed her.

The thought is pleasing, and she doesn't mind her cold toes, her heavy limbs as she takes a careful little sip of chocolate.

"But what would we be celebrating?" It's a question, but some part of her feels like it ought not be one, that the answer is _obvious_ , but Carmilla's expression makes her forget it (makes it easy for her to drop the thought, the feelings), as she leans in like she's about to share a secret.

"That we're in Vienna, of course. That we'll have all that time together. That I have been given the gift of your presence, to keep with me as I keep my heart inside my chest."

And there Carmilla goes again, being _silly_ , but any words to laugh it all off has dried up in her mouth, because her mouth is still dry despite the chocolate she drunk just earlier, and Carmilla's small hand around her wrist is throbbing warmly, firm and hard and yet soft like silk, as she squeezes it.

"I am so happy I met you, Laura. So happy I found you again."

She squeezes her wrist again, then her hand slowly slides up her arm while Carmilla stands up, leaning both over the small table and _her_. With the sun behind her Carmilla is nothing more than a shadowed outline to Laura's light-struck eyes, and she can't move. Every limb is heavy, sucked down into the shadow cast by the table, by _Carmilla_. By her own thoughts, tilting up to meet Carmilla as she leans down, and the hot brush of lips against her cheek should be a shock. It's not. It reminds her of...

Carmilla's lips meet hers, her tongue like a scalding brand, her small, generous lips clever, and Laura thinks this is how a suitor ought to kiss, and there will be none to compare after this, as she sits there, head tilted back, her hand on Carmilla's shoulder. Carmilla's sharp incisors, the ones the merchant that had angered Carmilla so by pointing them out scrape against her lips. Her heart quails, and the shadows in her mind rises up, welcoming, and Laura can't help but sink deeper into them.

The scrape is followed by a pinch, and she shudders, hand tightening on Carmilla's shoulder, remembering a similar pinch, just _lower_ near the swell of her breasts. It's familiar, by now, having happened near every night since this lazy, dark moon overtook her. The thought should bring shame, but all she can muster is to sink, to _yearn_ \---

Light lances through her, and the heavy shadow is gone. Carmilla sits down, a small, teasingly dark smile on her face, and for a hot, childish moment, Laura _cannot believe_ Carmilla would sit back down, wants to stomp her foot and demand she do more than nibble on her lip like one does a sweet treat. Then her father comes out on the terrace with his coffee, followed by Madame and Mademoiselle, and Laura has to hide her flush by ducking her head and picking up her chocolate.

What was she thinking? Carmilla is no suitor, and there will be no café visits to Vienna. Papa would be deeply upset and worried if she left, anyway, _especially_ with how little energy she has, these days. Even as she drinks, however, looking towards the sun, she can feel Carmilla's eyes on her, two points of light in the shadows of her thoughts, and the memory of the kiss both burns through her lassitude, and weighs her down.

She lets it, and merely smiles at papa, a small one, for that is all she can manage for her dear father, when he asks her if she is all right. She is, after all. Sickness passes, and darkness is nothing to fear.

Her mouth throbs, and she swallows the taste of iron with the chocolate, not flinching when the liquid slides over the punctures Carmilla left behind; sometimes she doesn't know her strength, but Laura has no energy to tell her to mind her teeth, not wishing to invite questions from her father and the ladies that she does not feel up to answering.

Closing her eyes, Laura soaks up the warm sunlight, and thinks of walking with her arm linked with Carmilla's down the streets of Vienna, dusk soothing on their heads, and sitting down for cups of hot chocolate. It's a nice thought, and Laura smiles again.


	5. Sharp - Hyewon/Dohwa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Moonlight Garden and Hyewon/Dohwa, this time! Early on in the plot, so there's no spoilers, and there's Dohwa and Hyewon's early dynamic going on here. c: There is, also, knifeplay in this.

"Dohwa."

Something taps against wood, sharp and loud, and Dohwa is obliged to look up from the book she's reading, painstakingly copying over the overcomplicated lines to the fresh pages on the table beside her. Hyewon is tapping the pommel of a knife against her desk, an eyebrow arched, and Dohwa's expression scrunches up merely _on reflex_.

" _What_ , Mistress?" She is, after all, very busy. She knows she's going to fail the quiz by day's end, like she's done for the past week, but she refuses to stop trying just because of that. The whole thing does make her very grumpy, though, and Dohwa's mood isn't helped every time she catches sight of her pendant on the end of Hyewon's fan. She _still_ hasn't figured out a way to liberate it without Mistress or Yunwoo unnie noticing, but... she's determined.

"Come over here. We'll have another _hands on_ lesson to remedy your abysmal abilities." Mistress smiles, sharp and definitely mocking, and Dohwa stands up as reluctant as she's annoyed. She's just doing this to piss her off and make her uncomfortable, she _knows_ she is. But with her pendant in Hyewon's possession, even knowing her and Yoosun's secret won't save her from that. That's why she's here at all, after all.

She stomps around the table and crosses her arms over her chest, then, after Hyewon looks her up and down as she stands up, eyebrow arching up again, she unwinds her arms, fists her hands in her skirts instead, and scowls.

"Now," Hyewon says, a now-familiar mocking little smile on her face as she comes around the desk, nearly _swaggering_ as she walks, "this isn't a game _most_ noblewomen would play with any random kisaeng, but you should know of it, even so."

Dohwa has a bad feeling about this. Especially so since Hyewon carried the knife with her, and she hefts it now, delicate but deadly, level against Dohwa's chest.

"Wh--- _Mistress_ , what are you doin---!?" The tip of the knife has barely brushed the front of her jeogori when Dohwa flinches, then twitches back with a wide-eyed scowl and snapping her hand up to cover her nose, which Hyewon just flicked. The unimpressed look on her face only _barely_ covers the superior, smug amusement.

"That was one."

"One _what_!" She has no idea what's going on, or _why the knife_ , but angry resentment burns low in her gut, turns the watery fear into sharp-chinned outrage as she raises her head again.

"One piece of clothing," Mistress says with a grin, tapping the flat of the knife against her cheek, "the goal of the game is to see how close the knife can get, and for how long, before the kisaeng, that means _you_ , flinches. Some, of course, enjoy that game very much and have to deliberately flinch to reward their patron with the reason for playing the game at all, but I see you're not one of them." The slim eyebrow goes up against pale skin, and Dohwa closes her hands into fists, less to hide the shaking and more to keep herself from lashing out. She can't make this _worse_ on herself, but _why_ is the mistress _so awful_?

Sure, they got off on the... ah, wrong foot when they first met, and then she found out the twins' secret, but she _knows_ Hyewon is choosing her lessons by what might make her the most unsettled or embarrassed!

Nothing for it, however. Taking a breath, lips pressed together, Dohwa lets it out slowly.

" _Fine_."

She's barely reached for the ties before Hyewon is holding up an admonishing finger, however.

"And put some _grace_ into it, at least. You undress like a peasant, and while I'm sure there are many peasants who would be reassured flower maidens are just as human and base as they are, you're not going to be entertaining _peasants_." Another tap of the knife to a smooth, pale cheek. "I won't expect any _artistry_ , not from _you_ , but put a bit more thought behind what you're doing."

Eyes narrowing and cheeks starting to burn, Dohwa just barely manages to untie her jeogori with slow, almost stately movement instead of the choppy jerks she _wants_ to use. Shrugs out of it and holds her arm outstretched behind her before she lets the garment spill on the floor instead of pulling it off as quickly as possible, like it stinks. She feels awkward, and _stared at_ , because of course Hyewon doesn't look away, her dark eyes narrowing as Dohwa does as bid and takes that one garment off. Finally, there's a huff from the mistress of Moonlight Garden.

"I suppose that's satisfactory. Let's try again, then." If there was any disappointment (and she surely imagined the brief reddening to the mistress' cheeks just now), it is quickly swallowed by businesslike determination, the knife extending towards Dohwa like a snake once again. She can do this. She will _not_ let the mistress win, not _this_ time.

Somehow, she swallows the shuddering breath that wants to escape when the knife teases against the wrap around her breasts, not even deep enough to cut through the fine material, but she knows it _could_. She stares at it, watching as it goes sideways, presses against the hill of a nipple poking through the fabric, makes something in her stomach twist, then steals upwards. When not even the tickle of cool metal against the bare skin around her collarbones makes her flinch, Dohwa risks looking away from the knife to meet Hyewon's eyes.

For a brief moment, Dohwa has to swallow a triumphant smirk, watching the narrowed, hot glare aimed her way from under thick lashes. Mistress clearly expected her to be unable to deal with the knife. The success sings like a flame through her - and then the knife whispers against the hollow of her throat, a scrape of metal against skin and a chill goes through her.

Somehow, Hyewon doesn't cut her, and the chuckle is smug.

"That's two."

Glowering, Dohwa undoes the belt of her chima with a tilt to her hips, stretching the long ties out to the sides before she lets them go. The skirt falls like a whisper, the fabric pooling like a blooming flower around her feet, leaving only a few layers of sokchima left, and the wrap. She can still win this. She _knows_ Mistress won't cut her. The knife is just there to _intimidate_ (is this even a _real_ game..? Scratch that, she can definitely believe that it would be), she just needs to keep that in mind.

She can't quite keep her hands from trembling, just a little, when the tip of the gleaming blade dances down the column of her throat however, though that close she can only see the guard and Hyewon's slender hand around the hilt, and so she fists her hands back in the sokchima to hide that, to keep herself _still_. It works... well enough, but the cool tickle of the blade makes it impossible to forget as it follows first one, then the other collarbone, the skin thin over them, and not even the pinched look on Hyewon's face can quite insulate Dohwa from the tension in her belly the longer the knife remains close to her skin.

She knows Mistress won't _deliberately_ cut her (surely... maybe...) but if she gets annoyed enough, frustrated that this little game isn't unnerving Dohwa enough to make her _lose_ to satisfy Hyewon's sneering superiority and need to _push her into the ground_ , Dohwa isn't sure she might not unintentionally slip.

Hyewon's grip on the knife as it circles up to her cheek is white-knuckled now, and while it dives sideways to tickle the wings of her nostrils, Dohwa's heart is thundering in her ears, now. Surely that's as high as the knife will go. Surely.

The knife goes up the bridge of her nose, and _Mistress will not cut her_ , she has to believe _that_ , at the very least, but _what if_ \---

"Hyewon? Dohwa?" Yoosun opens the door to Hyewon's office, and both Hyewon and Dohwa freezes, though Dohwa only glances over with her eyes, not daring to move otherwise. The knife is _so close_. "Am I interrupting again?" Yoosun sounds something between amused and concerned, an awkward little half-smile on her lips as she takes off her mask. Hyewon huffs and steps back, tucking the knife into her belt.

"No. I suppose we should have afternoon tea. You may redress, Dohwa." Hyewon whirls around and if Dohwa wasn't so relieved and incredulously angry at the same time, she might have thought Hyewon was relieved, too. But that is surely not right. Hyewon has no reason to be relieved about being interrupted!

She catches Yoosun's eyes before she can leave to get the tea, and mouths a silent 'thank you, unnie', at her. Yoosun's smile in return chases the chill out of her limbs, and Dohwa can pull the chima back up and then snag her jeogori off the floor without any tremble to her hands at all, and even feel a little smug.

She did it.

Sure, she did it thanks to Yoosun interrupting them, but she _was_ handling the knife _fine_ until Hyewon startled playing dirty, aiming for her _eye_! With a huff, Dohwa ties the jeogori shut and goes to slump in her chair, practically collapsing. At least today, Mistress didn't win.


	6. The Moon - Haruka/Usagi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same AU as in Opposites as we return to Sailor Moon again, this time from Haruka/Uranus' point of view.

The moon couldn't be seen from Uranus. Not with the bare eye at least, but Sailor Uranus stared in the direction she knew Earth - and thus the Moon - to be, and imagined she could see the gleam of the white little satellite. Imagined she could see the light cast from Serenity's form, just the same as it'd glowed around her as she left, carrying her back to the Moon a bare few hours after she'd arrived, on a visit that shouldn't even have happened. She'd wasted the first part of that visit, been keen to return the princess whence she'd come, because she _shouldn't be here_. Serenity had stopped her only when she asked if Uranus didn't _want her there_. If so, she'd leave.

She should've said she didn't. 

Should have, but the look she'd been speared by had shattered her resolution, and they'd had another couple hours. Now she missed her, missed her presence, despite that it was only days ago Serenity had alighted in her castle, bringing the light of the Moon with her. Her hand closed in on itself where it was resting on the balustrade, as if she could catch something of the lingering warmth that had long since fled, of the pale, slender hand that rested there for a couple minutes as she showed this balcony and its view off, those days before.

She should not be expecting anything more than the wide-eyed, star-lit look she'd gotten when Queen Serenity had introduced her, and Neptune and Pluto, to her daughter. She should not be expecting _anything at all_ but to do her duty, wrapped in the light of the energy from the Moon and its royal family to steel her, for that introduction hadn't even been planned.

And yet here she was, not just _expecting_ , but _missing_. It burned like gasses on her tongue, squeezed her spine like vacuum.

_You look so handsome, Uranus._

The words had glowed like they'd been charged from the legendary Silver Crystal itself, when Serenity had said that just before she left, the words tumbling out like she was afraid someone would overhear and realize where she was, and interrupt her before she was finished. The _choice of words_ had set her alight in a way Uranus couldn't define, and now she stood here, looking in the direction of the Moon without being able to see it, to see the glow of it, and missed what she shouldn't.


	7. Disaster - Haruka/Usagi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day seven! I was almost not going to write anything despite that I had an idea I wanted to do, because I felt kinda bleh, but I'm very pleased with what I turned out nonetheless. c: Haruka/Usagi and we're going pretty firmly AU, not just canon divergence AU this time. It's both a fantasy AU and a Flower Maiden AU*.
> 
> (*Which means that one half of the pairing is going to sport a mark - a seed - on their body somewhere, from which, once a month, flowers will "grow" over the body, only buds at first, and bring with them a need to have sex with a woman; the flowers bloom at climax. Think of it as a sort of Heat/kind of A/B/O AU, with only two "sexes" involved. There's more, but it's not relevant for the AU or it's worldbuilding I don't actually want to include.)

It starts as a creeping tingle from her right shoulder, a warmth that turns her skin sensitive. Sensitive enough to leave the barest brushes of her clothes pleasurable, and then follow that pleasure with the ghostly forerunners of pain. Haruka grits her teeth and manages through the training, stubborn and furious; she refuses to let her body dictate for her.

She can't hold out _forever_ though, and she skips the shower entirely, knowing what the water against her skin will feel like. Protective armour pieces are dropped, one after the other, and she can't quite concentrate enough to put them back where they belong. She leaves them. Leaves the arena, emptying of the rest of the royal guard who'd been practising along with her, and if _only_ she could actually turn to any of them. Those men and women finding out would be even more of a disaster than this is turning out to be however, so Haruka walks (staggers) determinedly down corridors that even in their utilitarian shape are still delicately decorative.

She can't quite tell if the soreness is from exercise or the bloom, and more than that, she's sweaty, which is even worse at the moment. She can swear she can smell herself, like something newly-cut green being carried on a breeze. She is lucky her scent is not what most people would think of when it comes to 'flowers', lucky it's relatively easy to hide. Lucky the scent is further rather easily masked as suitably _masculine_.

Not that she actually had to pretend to be a man to join the Lunar Royal Guard, for it has many brave and capable women among its ranks; it was more about another layer of security, of _secrecy_. Men cannot be flower maidens, so even if she disappeared once a month, even if she always seemed to carry a freshly green scent to her, well, that was only the wind having caught in her hair, that was only because she was a healthy individual with _needs_ , wasn't it?

Haruka's laugh is short, nearly a bark, and it bounces in wavering breathlessness against the walls of an empty corridor she knows will not bring relief. Neither of the two people who would usually be able to help her are on the Moon this week. They'd _hoped_ that her bloom wouldn't be quite yet, that one of them would be back before it happened.

Not so, apparently.

"Well, isn't that--- Just typical." Haruka flinches at the raw softness in her own voice. Has to pause for a moment, hands fisting in the fabric of her pants. Can't help but rub both hands and fabric against her thighs, press her thighs against each other as the aching tingle down her arm turns into a warm, infuriating throb - as well as a stab of pain. She swallows the gasp, but thumps against the wall instead, missing the sound of approaching feet, the clatter of the heels nearly a thunder.

"Captain Uranus? Cap--- _Haruka_ , are you alright?"

There's a hand, burning, light, soft and soothing all at once, on her cheek, fingertips just barely brushing against her skin, and the familiar voice rings with earnest concern. Her heart freezes, but when she opens her eyes, of course it wasn't a hallucination. Not with the way her cheek is lit up by the touch still, pain momentarily smoothed away. Princess Serenity stands before her, bent forward and her head tipped back to meet her gaze, the way she's folded nearly in on herself.

No.

No, she can't have her find out, even if, perhaps it's mostly only from selfish want to keep the princess' regard, her nearly _shy_ attraction just as it is, a tension unrealized. Haruka fears losing that, if Serenity finds out the truth. But the princess, she knows, would never betray her secret. She cares, and she certainly _does not care_ for the limitations flower maidens are put under, understandably or not. And her hands... would feel so good, on her hot skin. Haruka closes her eyes, exhales.

"I'm... fine, Your Highness. It's just a bit of a spell."

A spell, of course. A dizzy spell that makes her want to straighten up, press the slim body bent towards her up against the wall and rub herself against her, makes her want to _beg_ for those hands on her, on her hips, her shoulders, her _breasts_ , to ease the pleasure, the pain. She's dizzy with _that_ , indeed.

"Do you need me to... No, no, come on! You need to sit down, Haruka!" Princess Serenity flutters about her, worry fairly _radiating_ from her, then grabs her hand and tows her away. There is no way for Haruka to resist that tiny force of well-meaning, of delicate fingers around her wrist. The cuff of the jacket is in the way of feeling skin against skin, though, and she resents it deeply.

The door closes behind them, the sitting room only lit by a slanted afternoon sun not in view of the windows, the Moon caught in its long day. It's private enough, since this is, Haruka realizes with a slow, silent curse, part of the royal wing. Her body had apparently decided who it wanted to help relieve her bloom before her brain had been informed of the decision.

"Over here, Haru--ah!?" Serenity's startled cry is muffled by her own hand, clapped over her mouth, as she stares, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked up at the captain of the royal guard, who's pressed her up against the wall, arms on either side of her head.

"I need you to keep a secret, Usagi." Haruka's voice is a soft, rumbling rasp, breathless and warm, and Serenity's blush darkens and spreads, less so for the use of her personal name than the tone, the _look_. Not that hearing Haruka using her personal name isn't a gift, every time it happens, for both of them.

"Always! But what..."

Serenity trails off, her bright blue eyes somehow widening _further_ when Haruka goes for her uniform jacket's buttons, fairly _ripping_ them open in her haste, her aching, thrice-cursed _need_. The jacket is discarded, and the shirt follows, and she doesn't even need to say anything. She can see the second Serenity spots the issue, spots her _secret_ (and she does not mean her breasts, now on display), and the hand pressed over Serenity's mouth is extended, a slight tremble to the fingers, to brush against the spread of elegantly curling stems down towards her elbow and up towards her neck, topped with as-yet closed yellow chrysanthemum buds.

"Oh."

Whether that sigh comes from her, or Serenity, is hard to tell, and maybe it doesn't matter. Haruka leans into the touch skating down her arm with a tremble, pushes her princess more firmly against the wall and finds a thigh among the floaty layers of nearly see-through, pearly fabric to press herself against, hips twitching just slightly.

"I need you," Haruka whispers, and with the way there's a dawning look of stunned awe, of shy _pleasure_ on Usagi's face to be told that she is, in any way, needed _for herself_ instead of always being the one protected, Haruka decides that maybe this disaster might yet turn out to be a blessing. Maybe this won't ruin anything at all.

She could probably be forgiven for hauling her Most Serene Royal Highness Princess Serenity up by her thighs and practically tossing her on the divan behind them, following her and pushing her skirts out of the way. By the laughing flush and shy hands that gently slap hers away to get to the fastening on her pants, she has certainly already been forgiven.

"I'll help you." Usagi's voice is a bare butterfly's wing in the room, carried on the fresh scent of blooming chrysanthemum.


	8. Silent - Carmilla/Laura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a closet, and two girls who has to be quiet. Plus some breastplay and Carmilla feeding.

The closet is dark, but there's a line of light at the bottom of the door, mostly blocked by Carmilla's dress. Laura's awkwardly bent back against the shelves, digging into her back, but she dares not make a single noise in protest. If anyone would come by, they'd hear. If they'd hear, they would _investigate_. Her breath sticks in her throat at the idea at the same time as a hot line is scraped down her left breast.

"Ca---" She has to press her hands, both of them, more firmly against her mouth to remember to _be quiet_. But it is oh so hard, so _hard_ to not make any noises at all when Carmilla has her mouth to the swell of one breast or the other, dividing her attention, and her _teeth_ continually scrape or nip all over.

Every not-bite sends a thrill through her, a damning, _shameful_ burst of pleasure that burns gold deep within her and makes her tip her pelvis forward, hips arched, silently begging. But Carmilla hasn't touched her at all below the waist; indeed, she's barely put hand to her! Yet she's wet and trembling, having to muffle moans and gasps behind her hands.

A hot, wet tongue maps out another long, twinned scratch down her right breast this time, ending with a sharp nip and leaving Laura _shuddering_ against the shelves behind her, stifling a sob. She will not bite, not in the middle of the day, will she? And yet, if she does _not_... Laura isn't sure she isn't about to try and switch their places, just to get some _relief_. She could never have imagined this, weeks and weeks ago, and yet here she is. Her breath burns unsteadily down into her lungs and she squeezes her eyes shut, having to bite down on one of her fingers to quieten herself. There are not that many living and working in the schloss, but _if_ one of them should pass by close enough to hear something that shouldn't be, they will find them out, and then everything will be ruined.

To think she'd been denying wanting this, and more besides, as shortly as a week ago!

" _Carmilla_ ," Laura finally hisses, breathless and stuttering, but any other words fail her. She arches up again, but all Carmilla does is shift her own stance, pinning one of her legs with one of her knees, and sends her such a _terrible_ look past thick, low-lidded lashes that her whole body throbs.

"Shh, dear one." The smile in against her chest, Carmilla's hands each holding a breast and pushing them together, burying her face in the cleavage, and Laura flushes as she catches sight of it. Sometimes, it still marvels her Carmilla really _is_ most definitely another woman, however unnatural of one she may be, and not a man disguised, like she'd thought. She opens her mouth to protest her treatment, no matter the shivery thrill it sends through her and chokes instead. She shoves as many fingers into her mouth as she can manage to silence herself as she shudders and twists against Carmilla, helpless as the tension in her crests and crashes down.

She had not known a bite could feel like that. 

She had not known feeling the draw of her own lifeblood out of her, Carmilla's mouth locked around a nipple and sucking on it as much as she's drawing out the blood and swallowing it, would leave her aflame and coming. 

Laura slumps against the shelves with nothing but a few, soft little whines escaping her as her hands drop to Carmilla's shoulders, holding her against her breast until Carmilla is no longer nursing, and her own body is still and silent.


	9. Lavender - Catra/Adora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not quite over that my first Catradora fic is straight up detailed smut, with an AU as supportive reason... But anyway, here we are, day nine and with another flower maiden AU* (based on the web manhwa Moonlight Garden). It's basically a heat fic and the only warning is really for Catra's issues, as Adora is where she wants to be. It's post season one, possibly plus a year or two, whatever.
> 
> (*Which means that one half of the pairing is going to sport a mark - a seed - on their body somewhere, from which, once a month, flowers will "grow" over the body, only buds at first, and bring with them a need to have sex with a woman; the flowers bloom at climax. The seed matures once the individual reaches twenty years. Think of it as a sort of Heat/kind of A/B/O AU, with only two "sexes" involved. There's more, but it's currently not relevant for the AU or it's worldbuilding I don't actually want to include.)

"Catra."

The raspy hiss jerked Catra around like there was a leash that had been tugged, unprepared to hear it as she was. The bed bumped into the back of her legs, but a flick of her tail helped her keep balance and she could focus on what was in front of her, claws out and counting weapons even before she set sight on She-Ra, wondering _how in hell_ she got all the way in here, even if it had happened once before. The stronghold in general, not her room, that was. The defensive - no, _self-assured_ \- jab she'd been intending to throw out stuttered into an uncertain noise that she swallowed, blinking. Catra caught herself not even a second later, recovering and simply coming up with another jab.

"Ha! Look at you! You think you're gonna invade the Fright Zone looking like _that_ , Adora?" She laughed, claws sliding back into their usual positions, hands going to her hips. Adora - well, _She-Ra_ \- looked... was there even a word for it? She'd seen Adora afraid, hurt, angry and happy, but never quite... vulnerable, she realized right then. And that, _vulnerable_ was what she looked like, with a flush on her face and her eyes wide, mouth open just slightly. Catra thought her lips were trembling, just a little, and something squirmed deep inside. "You really ar---"

"Catra, something's _wrong_ ," Adora said, or maybe begged, but Catra didn't have a chance to inject any mockery of that plea as She-Ra melted away off of Adora, like the energy didn't want to let go and Adora sort of... _arched_ with it, in a way she'd never seen happen whenever she'd been present when Adora went from She-Ra back to plain old, _dumb_ Adora. And maybe something _was_ wrong, though a darkly satisfied curl in her gut saying that was just Adora's own fault was probably not the reaction Adora was looking for.

"What have you done with your _hair_? Did Princess Sparkle try to dye it for you so you could look like your _new best friend_?" Catra sneered, ignoring the fact that neither of Adora's closest confidantes in Brightmoon were particularly “new”, in any definition of the word, any longer. Maybe that was why she was hung up on it, still, despite that she _had_ let go of Adora what felt like lifetimes ago. She _had_. Yet here she was now... 

Catra stalked forward while Adora swayed on her feet, her hair weirdly and faintly pale lavender, stronger at the ends of it. Her hair was still blonde, _mostly_ ; it really did look like a botched dye-job of a sorts. "And did she make you use _perfume_?"

Arching an eyebrow, Catra stopped a couple steps away, still wary that this _wasn't_ some weird plan of Adora's to attack her, and cocked her head. It wasn't actually a new scent, Catra realized as she sniffed the air, it was just more obvious and pervasive than it'd ever been before. After puberty, Adora had started to smell faintly... sweet. Kind of floral, Catra supposed, now that she'd been far more often than she'd liked in the Whispering Forest, but the scent had come and gone through the years. It'd always been most obvious after training, or a shower, always the _least_ obvious after Shadow Weaver had drawn Adora close at least once a week. She'd always thought the old hag had seemed kind of confused and annoyed at those points, but she'd never been able to figure out _why_. Probably just exasperated that her pet project wasn't as impressive as she could've been, because how intimidating was it for Adora to smell like _flowers_?

"Of course I aren't!" Adora finally managed something like a snap, familiar fire in her voice and a displeased twist to her mouth. Embarrassment coloured her, but it eased up nearly immediately for that earlier vulnerable expression, Adora's eyes going soft, _warm_. "You _know_ I don't---"

"I don't know _anything_ about you anymore Adora, as you're well aware, and I _don't care_!" Any previous smugness over the fact that for some unearthly reason Adora had come _to her_ , even gone so far as to literally invade the Fright Zone and, what, climb the walls, to get up to her room? evaporated. She didn't know, and she _didn't care_. Really. She closed the last bit of distance between them and shoved her hand in Adora's face, claws extended again. "And I'm gonna be nice and _not_ call half of the Fright Zone down on you if you leave ri... ight---"

Catra stared, the rest of the sentence coming out less as intelligible words and more as a mew, as Adora tilted her head, opened her mouth, and drew her finger inside, heedless of the unsheathed claw. Adora's tongue was like liquid lightning as it curled around her finger, _soft_ and wet. Her mouth was a furnace, and Catra could swear the sliding press of tongue against skin and fine, thin fur slowly could be felt more and more. 

Her nerves tingled with it, and then Adora _sucked_ , and _both_ of them shuddered with the sensation. Her whole finger was inside Adora's mouth, tongue sliding around it in a slow swirl and pink lips closed in a perfect circle at the base of the first knuckle. Catra was far too stunned to do anything but let Adora pull back slowly, the suction never let go of and leaving Adora's lips sliding along her finger in a display that lit fireworks in her stomach. She did nothing but stand there, even when what she really wanted to do was to shove more than just _one_ of her fingers inside Adora's mouth.

"Catra--- I don't know, what's going on," Adora whispered, breathless, vulnerable... and her wide eyes begging for an explanation as much as for help in the most primal and easily understandable way there ever was. Looks didn't have physical effects, but Catra felt it against her skin like a caress anyway, a shiver following.

"Y-yeah, well, don't look at _me_ , Adora! Do I look like an expert in Ador-ology?" She'd intended it as mocking, and to toss Adora out on her head right after, let her deal with her _own_ weird situation. She really, really was, but then Adora went for her jacket, already hanging open, tossed it on the floor and went straight on to pulling at her shirt. "A-adora, _hey_ \---"

"Just _look_." It was a brief flash of Adora's usual bullet-headed approach, a demand, and Catra was only a _little_ distracted by the swell of Adora's tits as she yanked her shirt off, just enough to get it up off her back and bunch around her breasts. Not distracted enough not to see what Adora meant, though, as soon as she'd scooted her pants down just a little.

There, low on her back, on the apex of the gentle swell of her right hip, was Adora's weird birthmark. To be sure, it'd always been a bit too geometric and coloured too unnaturally to look like a normal birthmark, but that was what they'd figured it to be, because what else _could_ it be? The slim, lavender rectangle didn't look any different from before, but there was one pale brown line working its way up diagonally over Adora's lower back, following the dip of the spine and then continuing a short way past it. There was another similar line going diagonally _downwards_ , and Catra stepped up, finger following its path down to where it disappeared under the waistband of Adora's pants and, what it looked like, between her asscheeks.

There were also sprays of pale lavender - lilac? was that the word? - circles extending from those lines. Like flower buds, maybe.

Admittedly, Catra wasn't exactly paying attention to _that_. Not with the way sliding her fingertip down Adora's skin sent a spark of pleasure straight to her spine, far more than such a light touch should, and _Adora_ shuddered under her touch like she was coming undone. She even _moaned_ , before she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Oh, _Adora_ ," chuckling darkly, Catra didn't know whether she was still going to toss Adora out on her head, or if she really was going to follow the throb in her gut, in her _clit_ (she ignored the way her tail was curled around one of Adora's ankles, and that Adora was clearly twitching said ankle, sort of rubbing herself into the light touch), but whichever it was she was a heartbeat away from deciding.

Old, angry hurt, the desire to lash out and, maybe, have Adora beg and get to _deny her_ , because that was all she deserved, especially _now_ , burned through her. Because why should she help Adora? Why would Adora _want_ to come to her, after all this time, after everything she'd done? 

The thing was, having Adora _needing her help_ was like catnip, and Adora had come all this way, _to her_ , despite that exact everything that had happened. Even if what she needed help with was a weird tattoo on her back and that she must've ingested some aphrodisiac and was too embarrassed to go to her _friends_ for help. Admittedly (if she was supposed to admit that, which Catra really wasn't, not _consciously_ at least) Catra didn't like the idea of Adora going to that goofy bowyer, or worse, the _princess_ with something like this.

"Didn't you listen to the lessons we got in Etherian flora, Adora? There are some aphrodisiacs out there, y'know." She snorted, giving in enough to trail the tip of a claw along that weird tattoo - and even weirder, she could swear there were more flower buds than before..?

"I haven't--- _Catra_ , don't be stupid! I have--ehn... _ah_." Adora gasped and arched under her touch, ass rising as she stretched, and the movement was near hypnotic. It was ridiculous, Adora wasn't _that_ interesting... And yet. " _Haven't eaten anything_. And that... oh, it hurts less, when you do that."

It was impressive that Adora had powered through to both finish her earlier sentence _and_ add to it, but then, that was Adora. Always the stubborn perfectionist.

"... Hurt less?" Catra would never admit to even the tiniest amount of actual concern, and it quickly disappeared when Adora made this _noise_ in the back of her throat anyway, but for one second it _was_ there. Why would it even hurt? None of the aphrodisiacs she knew of had _that_ sort of side effect.

"Yeah. It hurts... and _feels so good_." The words came out half strangled, incredulous. Adora not wanting to admit it, and yet saying it anyway, and now it was _Catra's_ turn to make a noise in the back of her throat as she yanked on Adora's pants.

"Get these off. _Now_ , or I rip them off of you and you'll have to go home half-naked."

Or she could transform into She-Ra to leave the way as and how she'd arrived, but, details. 

Unimportant details, because watching Adora undress until she was stark naked, revealing that that second brown line - branch? - _did_ dip down between her asscheeks was far more important. It made Catra want to touch, to drag her claws over Adora's skin, to _wreck her_. 

It was what she'd come here for, wasn't it? Grabbing Adora by the hips before she got a chance to turn around, Catra squeezed the soft flesh and was suddenly _assaulted_ by Adora's flowery scent (it didn't smell like anything that she could remember to grow on Etheria). It confirmed two things; first, that the touch was lighting up her nerves in a way it shouldn't be, sending tingles down into her pussy and stoking her arousal, so whatever was going on was having _some_ effect on her as well, but since nothing hurt and she didn't feel _desperate_ to have sex, just... definitely wanted more of the sensation and watching Adora coming undone, Catra didn't care. Secondly, Adora moaned again, and she squeezed her ass again just to hear the noise repeat, and the way Adora _moved_ against her wasn't in a way she'd seen her ever move before.

Not even the couple times they'd done something similar to this before Adora left; no, Adora now was liquid under her hands, shameless and needy even when there was still a thread of resistant tension in her muscles. When Catra then bit down on her shoulder and sucked, tasting as well as smelling her, tongue following to soothe the bite, Adora _thrust_ herself against her, ass grinding in an attempt to reach the answering hot throb inside Catra.

" _Catra_! I--- I _need_..." She cut herself off, trembling with the effort of it, and Catra didn't even care what was going on now, all she wanted to do was have Adora give in, finish that sentence. Become undone, under and because of Catra. She'd probably feel better if she did, anyway. So in the service of that, she let go of Adora's butt, ghosted her claws up along Adora's sides, and even that light touch had Adora twisting against her, hips tilted in a silent plea which she ignored, until she reached her breasts. They fit perfectly in her hands, _just_ large enough to easily knead. The soft flesh shifted in her grip, hard nipples pressed against her palms, and Adora cried out again.

Her hair, _somehow_ , Catra saw as she pulled out of it where she'd buried her face against Adora's neck to get more of that scent, was now definitely more lavender... lilac? than before. Strange. Shrugging, Catra shifted her grip on Adora's boobs and caught her stiff nipples between her fingers, smirking.

"You need _what_ , Adora?"

"I..."

Slowly, oh so slowly, Catra tightened her pinch, Adora stiffening against her in tune with it, but not _pulling away_. No, instead she thrust her chest up, head falling back on her shoulder, and thrust her ass back against her, with helpless little twitches half-rubbing her bare ass against Catra's still-clothed thigh. She twisted the nipples in her grip, and Adora made a noise that almost made _Catra_ come, the way it yanked on her pleasure and made her clit throb.

Adora was fucking _magic_ at the moment, and she smelled so, so good.

"I need _more_! Please!"

Not quite what she'd wanted to hear, but it would do, and she had ways to get exactly what she actually wanted to hear, too.

"Why didn't you _say so_?" Catra felt almost giddy with the control she had currently, giddy with the _pleasure_ ; both her own, and the one she could wring from Adora's body, leaving her panting. It almost hurt to step away from Adora, but she did so, and the look Adora gave her over her shoulder...

Like she'd thought earlier, their explorations before Adora had left didn't hold a candle to whatever was going on now, whatever was happening to Adora. There just was _no way_ to compare. Adora's hair was dishevelled, strands of it cradling a flushed cheek, her blue eyes dark and wide, _begging_. Adora's was literally _pouting_ , and not that sort of little-girl pout of annoyance; no, this somehow just made her look hotter, asking Catra to ravage her rosy lips.

Rosy lips. What the fuck. Catra shook her head, but that was the only word that applied, really. Adora was just... really hot, even if she'd always been attractive. It was just not quite the same, right now. It was a lot _more_. Catra pushed that aside and smacked Adora's ass.

"Catr-ah!" Adora startled, then glowered, but even her annoyance couldn't cover the way she'd shuddered when Catra had hit her, her eyelids fluttering and the flush darkening. Apparently that sort of pain wasn't one Adora had any protests against.

"What are you waiting for, Adora? The bed is over there." Waving a hand towards it, she smirked - an expression that fell off for an embarrassingly wide-eyed stare when Adora _did_ turn, and didn't actually stomp over, as she'd expected. No, she sort of... _slinked_ , which was both utterly wrong, because this was _Adora_ , and yet Catra could definitely see Adora do this if she thought it'd get some sort of rise out of her. And with lowered inhibitions... no wonder. Catra couldn't even find it in herself to be annoyed, at herself or at Adora, because how could she, with the view she was presented with?

Adora's skin shifted over her muscles like silk over steel, and the scattered sweat made her practically gleam. The spray of budding flowers on her back, whatever they were, shifted with her movements and made it look like the branches were swaying in a soft breeze. Adora laid down more like she'd expected, something between military precision and a careless flop, her hair spreading around her like it, too, was a flower. 

Catra had intended to make Adora sweat and beg for it, but decided it could wait a little, as Adora would be begging _either way_. So instead she shucked off her clothes as quickly as she could, and simply leapt onto the bed from her position, twisting in the air so she landed crouched over Adora and gave in to that earlier urge to kiss her.

It was like falling. 

Adora's mouth was as hot as it'd been earlier, her tongue as soft, and it seemed to set off fireworks when their tongues slid together. Adora shuddered underneath her even at the first, light brush of lips, and her hands rubbed restlessly up and down Catra's sides, half clawing at her skin and fur with her silly, blunt human nails, when she bit and nibbled on Adora's bottom lip. Adora's touch left fire in its wake, and Catra was forced to finally pull back with a gasp and turned around, her tail swaying high and jaunty behind her.

"Time to show me what you want, Adora." She didn't wait for a reply; instead she sank down, her hands on Adora's hips, and if she gasped when Adora's mouth pressed against her pussy, then that was _nothing_ to the vibrating moan _Adora_ let out. Her blunt-nailed toes curled as she pushed her hips up off the bed, even with Catra weighing her down. "Uh-huh. You g-gotta w-work--- _shit_."

If she'd thought kissing Adora had prepared her, she was wrong. It wasn't even necessarily that Adora was _exceptional_ at eating her out, because that wasn't it. But she also didn't _need to be_. Not when her needy noises, muffled by Catra's cunt, vibrated up into her core and set it singing. Not when every quick, flicking lick left sparkling heat in its path, and when Adora sucked on her clit, tongue flat against her, Catra had no choice but to come.

She rode through it, ignoring the wriggling hips she was pressing into the bed, the silk of the skin under her hands, so soft to the touch. Ignored anything but Adora's mouth and the way she worked through her orgasm, and it never became _too much_ , so she could just sit there and have Adora _continue_. Which was exactly what she did, her tongue growing quicker, her lips moving more frantically as she twisted as much as she could underneath her. Every muffled noise made Catra's eyes roll back in their sockets, and she was probably not that quiet either, their noises mingling in the room. Teeth threatened her clit, and she extended her claws, but Adora practically _wailed_ against her when they dug in, just lightly, and in response thrust her tongue deep inside, and Catra heard herself echo Adora as she came again.

All through it, she could feel Adora trembling, arching against her. Her hips moved under her grip, jerky little twitches that no doubt was accompanied by Adora tightening on nothing. Looking for relief, and getting none.

Thighs trembling, she pushed herself up enough to give Adora some air, and couldn't quite believe it when Adora actually followed, just enough to give her another few butterfly licks, a desperate noise caught in the back of her throat.

"S-so, Adora. _What_ do you, need?" Smoothing the claw marks she'd made, Catra slid one hand back along Adora's body and palmed one of her breasts, pinching her nipple just to feel Adora jerk under her and bury her face in her thigh for a moment.

"I..." Still she hesitated, the mumbled word followed by a lick against salty skin, heedless of the fine, barely there fur on Catra's inner thigh. Catra was as annoyed as she was impressed, but she didn't have much time for either feeling before Adora continued, again arching enough to push Catra up off the bed as she offered herself up for her. "I, I need _you_ , Catra."

Catra indulged herself, and looked over her shoulder. She could've come again just from the expression on Adora's face, but just graced her with a smirk, _somehow_.

"Oh, _Adora_. Was that so hard?"

Somehow, despite her body's not-so-silent plea, Adora had enough wherewithal to glare at her. _That_ just wouldn't do. Promptly turning, Catra practically swooped down, giving one last squeeze to Adora's boob before she slid her hand back down Adora's body and wound her arms around Adora's thighs so she could grab her ass again. She buried her face against Adora's desperation, blood-thick and with a smell like sex and _need_ , and if she'd thought having Adora eating her out had been good...

There was just something about the shape of Adora's pussy against her mouth, the taste, the wetness, that set her off again, and Adora's mouth coming back on _her_ almost made her lose concentration. But she was here for a reason, and Catra was still determined to _wreck her_.

A single, long lick made Adora shudder from top to toe, moaning against her like she'd already come. Delicately sucking on her clit, not even with much pressure at all, and Adora was arching up off the bed, crying out.

The smell of the flowers were heavy in the air, but couldn't mask the rich smell so close to her nose as Adora came apart under her. Her muscles trembled as Catra picked up speed, hips alternately twitching and gyrating, pressing herself against Catra's mouth and almost doing half her job for her. Catra came a third time, grinding herself down on Adora's mouth, as she reluctantly let go of one of Adora's asscheeks and stroked her along her perineum, then, as she decisively sucked on Adora's clit, smacked her ass again.

Adora shuddered, arched, and stiffened, her cry muffled against Catra.

Nibbling on the plump little nub in her mouth, Catra slid a single finger inside Adora, carefully crooking it since she wasn't looking to tear Adora up from the inside, and searched for---

Adora seized around her, her first orgasm instantly followed by a second, clamping down tight for several long seconds where Catra was riding what felt like a reciprocal echo of Adora's orgasm. It shuddered through her, wrapped around her with tingling sparks, and then settled like a drunken warmth in her limbs and muscles as Adora slumped, boneless, back on the bed.

Pulling off her, Catra brushed hair out of her sweaty face and stared down at Adora. Adora's hair was fully lilac now, no longer looking like she'd messed up dyeing it. It looked... _natural_ , like she'd never been blonde at all. Her mouth was red and plush, still looking awfully kissable as open and soft as it was, and her eyes were closed. The slight frown on her face spoke of exhaustion, not displeasure, and when Catra rolled her over, too curious not to, she moved like there was not a single bit of will left in her to do anything but follow, unconscious or not.

The flowers had bloomed.

They spread out over Adora's pale skin like splashes of colour, too life-like to be mere tattoos, and she'd seen them be just buds before, besides. One of the collections of small flowers spread over and into the cute dip where Adora's asscheeks started. Reaching out, Catra slid a finger to follow the branch like she'd done earlier, out into the flower, and teased her finger down into the crack. Adora arched up into the touch with a sigh, then flopped down against the bed again, still asleep.

Whatever the hell this was all about, Catra still had no idea, and she didn't really _care_ either, as she watched the blooming flowers slowly fading from Adora's skin, and was strangely sad to see them go. Not _just_ because that probably meant when Adora woke up tomorrow she'd be back to normal. They were also just... pretty. 

Throwing a glance towards the door, then back to Adora, Catra grunted.

"Fine."

Adora had come here because she'd needed _her_ , had outright admitted to it (if under duress), so she could be... lenient. Just this once. Flopping down next to and partially on top of Adora, Catra buried her nose against Adora's neck and breathed in the scent of whatever flowers had adorned Adora's back until she fell asleep.

***  
Adora woke up with a pleasant soreness in her muscles, clear-headed and... both calm and mortified. She was also free of both the all-encompassing lust and pleasure as well as the pain that'd followed the pleasure until Catra had started to touch her. The pain was really the real reason she'd gone to Catra at all, even if there'd been a brush of Glimmer's hand that'd felt as nice as Catra's first, confused touches. But going to Glimmer... no, no, she couldn't have done that, and since the slap on her back from Bow had turned into a shuddering wrench, the pain edging into nausea, she _definitely_ couldn't have gone to him either.

Or anyone else back in Brightmoon, or even in the rebellion in general. Well, maybe there was one of the princesses she could have gone to, now that she actually _could think_ , but all she'd been able to think yesterday was that she had to get to Catra. Catra would know, Catra would fix it. Which was so _very stupid_ on so many levels, that Adora didn't know what she'd been thinking.

Catra wouldn't know what was going on any more than she did (and she hadn't), and she didn't have any reason to _actually help_.

She had, though, if in her own way.

Exhaling on that thought, her heart aching as much as her muscles just then, Adora tipped her head, peering at Catra through her curtain of lilac---

... What?

Sitting up, heedless of if she woke Catra or not, Adora grabbed her hair and yanked it forward. Twisted it around in the muted light, but the view didn't change. Her hair was _definitely_ lilac, now. How? _Why_? What the hell had _happened_ yesterday? The weight of arms interrupted rising panic and made her look down, and Adora smiled despite herself. Her chest warmed with the familiar sight of Catra curled around her, arms locked around her waist and a notch between her eyebrows.

Cute.

Catra _could_ still be cute. Though that changed nothing, really. Sighing, Adora slumped, let go of her hair since there really was nothing to do about _that_ , either. It wasn't a change that'd hurt her, even if it'd take time to get used to and while she wasn't sure about how this made her think of Glimmer, it didn't look _bad_ either. After just sitting there for far longer than she should, enjoying the almost-forgotten but very familiar sensation of Catra curled around her, the twitching tip of her tail brushing Adora's knee, she finally heaved a sigh, reflexively scratched Catra behind one of her ears, and got out of the bed.

Which was both a much more involved process than one might think, and yet easier than if she'd been just about anyone else. Admittedly, she hadn't been sure of the latter, since that relied on "Catra has filtered me out of her attention of things to notice while asleep", but... apparently it _was_ still true, and Adora clapped her hands over her face to muffle the groan at the way her stomach fluttered at the realization.

No matter.

Snagging her clothes, she was halfway into her pants when she remembered how the mark had changed yesterday... There was a mirror in the small bathroom attached to Catra's room, and twisting around and standing on her toes gave her enough of a view to see that her back was bare again, only the narrow, lilac rectangle still present on her hip. That was a relief. The only changes from whatever had happened yesterday seemed to be her now-lilac hair and that her scent would be a _lot_ harder to hide, now... She might just not bother, honestly. Dressed again, her hair pulled up in its usual ponytail, she passed Catra towards the window, and paused.

Turned partway on her heel and watched Catra sleep, now curled up into her customary ball with her tail wrapped around her. It would be _really_ easy to subdue Catra now, take her with her to deprive the Horde of her leadership and drive, and... and what? She didn't know. She was still angry, underneath the stunned, well-fucked confusion that still lingered, still tired and she did... still miss Catra. But unless Catra came with a mind to turn against the Horde, how was she even supposed to convince her, _hide her_ until she'd changed her mind? Despite everything, she didn't want Catra to be discovered and at risk of being killed.

Stupid.

Smacking the side of her head, Adora crossed the room to the (definitely unused) desk, found something to leave a note with, scribbled 'thanks' on it, and left. Picked her sword up on the way out and transformed out on the balcony to the side of the doorway to cut down on the light that might wake Catra, and left like she'd come, doing absolutely nothing to the Horde.

Maybe not what she _should_ have done, but Catra hadn't taken advantage of her falling asleep yesterday to have her restrained and tossed in a cell, or killed. She hadn't _come here_ to do anything, she'd just... needed Catra's help. She'd _wanted Catra_ and no one else, she had to admit, even when she definitely shouldn't want exactly that. For as much as she'd been burning up yesterday, needing just any touch at all, she'd gone where she wanted to be.

At least it was over now.

(And if, the next month, she felt the same, threatening tingle-burn of arousal and burgeoning pain, Adora at least knew what that meant, this time.)


	10. Waiting - Yoosun/Dohwa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for day 10, so I'm a little behind! Moonlight Garden and Yoosun/Dohwa this time, though I have to warn you that the implications of what's going on are questionable and this is dub-con at best. It's basically a canon divergence exploration inspired by chapter 83-86 for future revelations and such.

She's been waiting so long, and now, now when she _finally_ will get at least _part_ of what she wants, Dohwa is...

"I t-think you should leave," Dohwa snaps, her brown eyes dark with fire while her body is bending towards Yoosun, and Dohwa is going to hurt herself with her anger. Because she knows. Because Hyewon must have told her, though when _Hyewon_ realized Yoosun's been working with their aunt, she doesn't know. Right now it doesn't matter, except for how Yoosun would like to storm over to where Hyewon is confined and wring her slender, graceful _neck_.

If she hadn't told Dohwa, Dohwa would still not know anything (though she doesn't know _everything_ , just yet, doesn't know it's Hyewon's _aunt_ that had her parents killed), and Dohwa would be happy to see her. Happy to let her close, to let her help her and give her what she's been waiting for. What Hyewon took from her.

"Dohwa..."

"I need you to l---!" She chokes on the word, cuts herself off. Looks away with colour high on her cheeks and one hand pressed against her abdomen, unconsciously. She's glaring so furiously at the wall that if she had the power to, it'd start burning under her gaze. 

And the thing is, Yoosun _could_ leave. She could leave, and come back in a couple hours, or tomorrow even, and Dohwa would be _desperate_ to have her there, no matter how angry she is at her. Because who else is going to help her? Who else would she be _willing_ to let help her, when there's no way she can sneak out without assistance, and Hyewon can't come to her? She could leave... and she can also just sit here.

She will have what she wants, even if she cannot have _all of it_ , at the moment. Sweeping her robe around herself a little more tightly, Yoosun stands up slowly.

"I can leave," she says slowly. Resists the urge to point out that Dohwa will need help either way. Dohwa knows, after all, and they can both feel it. The scent of peach blossoms in the air is heavy and enticing. They make it even harder for Yoosun to want to move her feet, at least in the direction she could go in to indulge Dohwa's anger and maybe herself, to go to Hyewon and actually strangle her. She flexes her hands, imagines Hyewon's neck under her fingers, pale skin reddening from lack of air---

Imagines kissing her, stealing even more of Hyewon's precious air. 

Yoosun shoves that thought away with startled confusion, because why is she thinking of _that_ , with Dohwa right in front of her? Dohwa, who's trembling slightly now, arching into her own touch and weighted forward on one foot towards Yoosun.

"Yes," Dohwa says, but her scowl turns into a flushed heat, and she shakes her head, "You should. I need... Unnie---" Dohwa slides forward, graceful despite her growing need, and the scent of peach blossoms nearly choke Yoosun at the same time as they light a fire in her belly. Dohwa's hands as she grips her robe, pulling her closer, are white knuckled, and there is anger still in her eyes. The first touch of her fingers against skin as she slips her hand inside the jeogori to brush over the top swell of Dohwa's breasts, however, brings a moan and a shudder out of her.

Dohwa folds to her, opening up like the flowers spreading down her shoulder will.

She can wait for the rest.


	11. Hunt - Catra/Adora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't from my prompt table, but have a bit of sexy hunting. ;v

The bark is rough against her palms, and the air sings to her, full of green smells, the teasing musk of animals, birdsong. Catra cares nothing about _those_ smells. She's after one in particular, and as if to remind herself, she lets go of the branch, brushing the claws under her nose. The smell lingers to them, and with a grin, Catra jumps down onto the ground.

The trail is a beacon through the trees now, and she leaps forward, intent on her prey.

Adora is breathless, barefoot, and scratched to hell. There's branches slapping her in the face, roots doing as much as her own nervous tension to almost trip her, and she is _giddy_. She's been running for a while now, diving under bushes to take breathers, stretching her muscles. Running, running, running, from the shadow after her. She ignores her feet and the tingle in her thighs, somewhere between an aching burn and a warm promise, but remembers the brush of claws on her ass before she lost Catra.

Catra, somewhere among the branches, or on the ground. She can pick out Adora's scent even when she does her best to smother it, to muddy the trail by walking, breath stuck in her throat, down a creek for a bit. Her toes are numb when she hops out, continues over thick moss. There is no taunting, no mocking. The forest is silent, and Catra is too. 

She means business, and all Adora can think of is the throbbing between her legs.

Something flashes past her, a rustle to her left, and Adora whirls around, secure in the knowledge that no one will die today, but she'll be plenty sore tomorrow.


End file.
